CHAPTER TEN

“Izzy! Go home!” Clyde says, clapping me on the shoulder and taking my order pad out of my hands.

“What? Why? Are you firing me? Is this about the coffee filters? I had no idea the box was going to fall apart like that, and I swear only ten of them were damaged. The rest are totally fine!”

My words come out on a rushed exhale of anxious breath and my heart is beating so fast that for a second my vision goes blurry.

It’s been a rough week. On Monday I messed up an order of burgers for a table of vegans who looked like they wanted to forgo their pacifist leanings and kill me with their butterknives when I put meat in front of them. Wednesday, I dropped a box of two hundred coffee filters all over the kitchen floor, which thankfully I had cleaned an hour before, so most were saved due to lack of dust and grime.

And today I broke not one, not two, but four mugs in a thirty-minute period while filling coffees.

To say I’m a wreck would be an understatement, and to declare me a crap waitress would be putting it nicely.

But instead of confirming my worst fears, Clyde just shakes his head and laughs. “I’m telling you to go home because you’ve been working yourself too hard. You deserve a night off, Izzy. Go hang out with Ben or call Sharon. Get some down time and rest, okay?”

Clyde is not particularly charitable or forgiving. I mean yeah, he gave me this job and has kept me on for four years despite my tendency to insult the Gamma and his pals and commit the occasional ordering snafu. But in all the time I’ve known him, he’s sent me home early exactly once. It was the first month that Ben and I were living in our house and I was so worried about making the payments that I tried working four shifts back to back. I accidentally filled the coffee filters with compost that Clyde had set aside for his garden because I thought it was ground coffee.

So basically, I must be in a really bad state for him to let me go home three hours into my shift.

However, I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so without further ado, I put my final orders in, take off my apron, throw it and my order pad and pen in my locker and get my purse.

“Stay safe on your walk home,” Clyde calls out from the back office near where the employee lockers are stationed as I leave.

“Huh? Why?” I ask, popping my head around the door.

“More drama with the clan,” he tells me.

“Is it still about that new beta?”

I’ve tried to avoid thinking of James this past week, but it hasn’t worked. Hence all the work mishaps.

Yes, even though he told me I didn’t know him at all, even though he was a total jerk to me, I still miss him.

Mates suck.

“Yup. The whole hierarchy has been thrown off. There’s a lot of infighting, and some of the shifters are taking it out on the locals.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“There’ve been some attacks. Nothing major, but I’d just stay vigilant. As a rogue, you’re more vulnerable than—”

“Wolves in established packs. Yeah, I know.” I roll my eyes, because between Clyde and Ben, I’ve heard about the downfalls of being a rogue so many times I should have the words tattooed on my forehead.

“I know you’ve heard it a thousand times before, but it bears repeating. I’ll see you Monday, okay?” Clyde says.

I nod and wave goodbye to him before I step outside through the diner’s back door. Inhaling a deep breath, I look up at the sky and admire the bright violet and indigo slashed across the sky as the sun dips below the hills up ahead.

I run home quickly, hoping that Ben saved me a slice of the pizza I know he’ll order, because it’s what he does every Friday and has for as long as I can remember.

But when I open the door to the house, Ben isn’t in his usual spot on the couch. Most of the lights are off and taped to a lampshade is a note.

“Took an extra shift. Be home around 3am. Love ya, B.”

This is the third extra shift Ben’s taken in the last week. He works days as a construction site manager and while I know that occasionally their projects run into the evening, the company has another manager on call for those shifts. Ben has no reason to take on extra work. We’re fine for money—he just got a raise last month, and I’ve been pulling in enough tips to not only keep the lights on, but even fill the freezer with branded chicken nuggets, the height of luxury.

What isn’t he telling me?

I don’t get any answers out of him when he tiptoes into the living room at 4:30 in the morning, either. I slept on the couch so I could wake up the second he got back, and though I relish the girly shriek he gives when I pop out and scare him, my amusement quickly dies when I see how strange he looks.

His hair is mussed, and his eyes are glassy behind the thick black frames he wears.

“Why are you working late again? I thought we were past the point where we had to grind ourselves to the bone to make ends meet?”

Ben rolls his eyes, a gesture he knows I hate, and shrugs. “It’s no big deal. The boss just needed my help on a project. Don’t worry, Bel. Go to bed. You look like you could use the rest.”

I squint at him, but he’s closed up and I’m too tired to keep prying.

“Fine. Whatever. Night Ben,” I say as I pick up my phone and head to my room.

As I lay my head on my pillow and reach over to turn out my lamp, I can’t help but feel like Ben is keeping a secret from me.